Who I Am
by Jess Angel
Summary: Dorothy Catalonia was set to walk out of the Winner Mansion... and out of its master's life. Forever.


**Who I Am**  
by Jess Angel 

Birds were chirping and the sun was shining, but all was not right in the Winner Mansion… 

"Ooh, I cannot believe he did this!" A furious Dorothy Catalonia paced back and forth inside the magnificent library. She stopped abruptly. "You knew about this, didn't you, Barton?" 

She was on the hunt. 

Her predatory gaze shot at him. 

And it screamed bloody murder. 

The man with chestnut hair remained passive, his always-stoic face unchanged. "I had no idea," he replied evenly. All he had expected was to spend a few days with his former fellow pilot. Quatre _had_ mentioned that Dorothy would be there, but he wasn't given any details about her coming. 

Trowa hadn't thought to ask. 

"No idea, that's rich, Barton. So you had 'no idea' that I would be here?" She raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I knew you'd be here," he paused. "But I didn't know why." 

'Besides the obvious,' Trowa added silently as an afterthought. 

Dorothy seemed partially satisfied with the answer. "Why. That's what I would like to know. Why?" 

He gave her a look. "Is there a problem?" 

"Is there a problem?!" Her glare intensified when she saw the telltale signs of a smirk. He seemed to be amused with her less than cool demeanor. 

"You _are_ together." 

She looked completely lost. "Together?" 

This was too much for him. Trowa searched his mind for the right word. "…Girlfriend?" 

She looked at him incredulously. "Girlfriend?!" 

The usually silent man mumbled under his breath. 

"What was that Barton?!" she demanded to know. 

He quietly and calmly replied, "I said, 'Aren't we a parrot today?'" 

She was almost floored. Trowa Barton had made a joke? 

Yes, so he was a clown. But he was hardly a comedic one. 

She laughed. This was all so very odd. First, she's invited for a "party" at the Winner Estate. Next, she finds out its only a party of three. Then, she's Quatre Winner's girlfriend. And finally, Trowa Barton himself jokes… about her no less. 

Trowa's brow furrowed at the maniacal sound. It sounded more like a cackle than a laugh. 

Suddenly, Dorothy's was bent over hysterical. She placed a hand on his shoulder to keep herself from falling down onto the shiny marble surface. Trowa, meanwhile, just continued to watch as Dorothy lost herself in laughter. 

Finally, she took a few breaths to compose herself. 

She gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Thank you, Trowa Barton, for your amusing input and knowledge. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave." 

Dorothy backed away and swiftly walked out of the library. Once in the hall, she bolted for her room. 

The quiet man just shook his head. 

* * *

Dorothy dumped her unpacked belongings into the small trunk. Luckily, she packed light. Well, she had come here believing that it would be a brief stay. 'Oh, just a two-three day party,' Quatre had said. 

"Ha," her voice bounced off the particularly high ceiling. She had been expecting crowds of people. It was a Winner party after all. If she had known… she would never have come. 

She had been apprehensive to go in the first place, but of course he had insisted. 

Well, she _had_ been avoiding him the past couple of months. 

Done. The trunk snapped shut. Putting on a determined face and scowl for good measure, Dorothy Catalonia was set to walk out of the Winner Mansion… and out of its master's life. Forever. 

* * *

Quatre grabbed the taller man's shoulder. "Trowa! Have you seen her?" 

Everyone seemed to be doing that lately, the clown mused, looking at his blond friend. 

"Dorothy, where is she? She's still here… Allah, tell me she's still here!" 

Trowa stilled the frantic man. "A few minutes ago, she went… ran to her room." 

Relief washed over the Arabian, but a look of resolve and something akin to anger flash in his eyes. 

The change slightly surprised the green-eyed pilot. Something had pushed Quatre to the edge. And he had a good idea of what, or actually who it was. "You'd better hurry." 

Quatre gave him a nod. "Thanks." The blond Arab was gone in seconds. 

* * *

"And just where do you think you're going?" 

Dorothy's steps slightly faltered. Still as a statue, she replied, "Where else, back to Earth, of course. I'll be taking the next available shuttle, Mr. Winner." She wasn't about to turn around and face him. 

He raised a golden brow. "Back to Mr. Winner, I see?" 

He advanced towards her back with deliberate and soundless steps. 

"It's your name, isn't it?" she mocked, venom lacing her tone. 

He began forcefully, "No… it's-" He seized her wrist in a tight grasp spinning her around. 

"Quatre," the trunk in her other hand clunked to the ground. 

"Precisely." 

She stared up at him, a fierce bluish gray boring into his eyes. 

Before he knew what happened, Quatre stumbled back, her other wrist still caught in his strong hold. Red fingers began to make themselves known on his white cheek. 

Her eyes examined the offended side. 

Sudden realization. 

A small sound could be heard emitting from Dorothy's lips. 

She had… She was guilty of this. Thoughtless, careless, she caused pain in fear of it. Didn't he know she would hurt him? Didn't he know she wasn't good for him? 

Her hand was instantly against the tender flesh. 

His eyes shut momentarily. 

"Why are you doing this?" Her fingers were slowly falling from his face. The words were exasperated and almost defeated. 

He looked at her so meaningfully. "It's who I am." 

Had she been any other woman, she would have cried at the sentiment found in those words. "And who am I?" her voice demanded instead. 

"You're Dorothy Catalonia… an excellent fencer, the girl who stabbed me…" 

That wasn't what she meant. "Am I your _girlfriend_?" 

He was thrown off by that. 

He took a moment. 

"If you wish to be… and will still have me… Yes, my girlfriend or my 'girl'. Or if you'd prefer, 'my woman'." 

She glared at him. It felt like she was letting him off easy. "That Chang Wufei better not be rubbing off on you." 

He smiled. 

Dorothy frowned. "And just who are you again?" 

He took both her hands into his, his thumb rubbing over the wrist he had temporarily imprisoned. 

"Just someone who loves you." 

He was a simple man, really. 

…**Fin.**

"Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.  
If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love,  
it would be utterly scorned."  
Song of Songs 8:7 

Gundam Wing and its characters © Bandai, Sunrise, and the Sotsu Agency 


End file.
